Salix Narcissa
by marginaliana
Summary: The lives of the Whomping Willow and Hermione Granger come together through the story of Narcissus. WillowSquid, HermioneNeville.


The Whomping Willow liked Hermione, against all odds. She wasn't the type to playfully toss ribbons into its branches, as Lily Evans had done, or to slip in and out at night like Remus, and later Gideon and Fabian. Instead she tended to lay quietly in the grass, far enough away that the willow didn't feel tempted to reach for her, but close enough that it could feel the soft, cool vibrations of her voice when she spoke.

Often, she merely studied silently, her mouth forming the words of spells and curses, or her hands moving swiftly across a scroll as she took fastidious notes. Other times, though, she read aloud from unfamiliar books, telling stories of people and places the willow had never heard of. Its branches flipped and twirled, acting out the scenes she described.

One cool afternoon the tree listened raptly as Hermione recounted yet another fascinating story.

"Hither came one day the youth," she said, "fatigued with hunting, heated and thirsty. He stooped down to drink, and saw a beautiful water-spirit living in the fountain. He gazed with admiration at bright eyes, hair curled like the locks of Bacchus or Apollo, rounded cheeks, parted lips, a sleek, ivory neck, and the glow of health over all."

The willow twisted itself towards the lake, too far from it to do more than catch the glint of sunlight off the water. _Would that I could see such an apparition for myself!_ it thought. _Brightly colored blooms, leaves curled like the finest honeysuckle, soft, puckered buds, sleek limbs…_ The willow sighed, the fluff of its branches causing a gust of air which ruffled the pages of Hermione's book. She glanced up and smiled, then returned to the story.

"But the image in the water was himself," she read. "It was merely a reflection. All unknowing, Narcissus fell in love."

The willow twitched. _A reflection! How utterly ridiculous._

"As Narcissus leaned into the water to take a kiss and wrap his arms around his beloved, it fled. But when he calmed and drew back it returned to look pleadingly at him. He could not tear himself away, and thinking nothing of food or rest, hovered at the edge of the fountain gazing upon his own image. He even spoke to it, saying, 'Why, beautiful being, do you shun me? Surely I am not so ugly as to repel you, for everyone has told me of my beauty and you yourself look not indifferent upon me. You smile upon me and answer my beckonings with the same.'"

The willow knotted two branches together, disturbed. _What will happen to Narcissus? So beautiful, and yet not a bit of sense in his head, I see. He doesn't even know he's looking at himself! I've seen a few like that pass through here, and they always come to no good end._

Hermione read on. "His tears fell into the water and disturbed the image. As it disappeared, he exclaimed, 'Stay, I entreat you! Let me gaze upon you, though I may not touch you.' In this vein, he cherished the flame that consumed him, so that by degrees he lost his color, his vigor, and his beauty."

Another two branches knotted together in fearful agitation.

"He pined away and died, and when his shade passed the Stygian river, it leaned over the boat to catch a look of itself in the waters."

Now the willow's limbs sagged. _The poor boy,_ it thought. _Such a capacity for love, and yet to always have the object of his affection just out of reach. I can see why it would have killed him._ The willow looked down on Hermione, deeply affected. _I can only hope that she will never know such pain. My sweet human friend._

"The nymphs mourned for him, especially the water-nymphs, and they smote their breasts in grief. They prepared a funeral pile and would have burned the body, but it was nowhere to be found; but in its place a flower, purple within, and surrounded with white leaves, which bears the name and preserves the memory of Narcissus."

-----

Three years after she'd gone, Hermione came again to the stretch of grass, bringing with her a young man who looked on the willow in horror. In the previous months there had been chaos and fighting and smoke, and the willow had been forced to defend the castle. Its limbs had whipped through the air, grappling with giants and tearing the throats from the men in masks. Now the ground in front of the castle was soaked with blood and though the battle and the war had been won, the willow felt the strength begin to drain from its limbs. The sunlight was cold against the feeble shoots it put forth.

"Please, Neville, there must be something we can do! It's dying and I don't know why."

Neville knelt and ran his fingers through the soil, then performed a quick spell. "Ah," he said sadly. "As I suspected. It's the lack of nourishment. The ground here is so saturated with blood and hate and anger… it won't be fertile for a long time." The willow shifted sadly and knew the young man spoke the truth.

"But you can fix it, right?" Hermione pleaded. "It's just… the willow is so important to Hogwarts. And to me," she finished softly, looking up into the sagging branches.

Neville hesitated a long moment. "We could move it, I guess," he offered finally. "Nearer the lake, away from where the battle took place."

Hermione grinned and grabbed him into a forceful hug. "I knew you'd think of something!" Letting go, she leaned in and patted one unmoving limb. "Don't worry," she told it. "We've got one of the best herbologists in the world in Neville here. He'll take care of you."

Only the willow saw Neville's blush and the longing look he cast at Hermione as she turned back to the castle.

-----

When the transplant was complete, Hermione and Neville stood by the willow and watched as its branches and leaves spread joyfully in the sun, and its roots sank deep into the clean, nourishing soil. Suddenly, the willow remembered the story of Narcissus, and laughed to itself. _And what shall I see,_ it asked itself, _should I look into the lake? A beauty, true, but only myself._ Playfully the willow twisted itself out over the water, trailing its limbs in swirling patterns. It drew back, and when the ripples died away, it looked down into the clear reflection then started in surprise.

The willow saw itself, yes, but beneath its image was another, a beauteous apparition. The other had strong, lithe limbs, a fetching shade of green stippled with brightly colored, bud-like puckers and intertwined with dark, luscious greenery. Under the water it danced, limbs curling and uncurling in intricate patterns. The willow was entranced.

_What is this I see? Am I like Narcissus, taken in despite my own best intentions? But no, I see my reflection clearly on the surface of the water. This beautiful creature is underneath, and it does not mimic me… what can it be?_

As the willow watched, Hermione took in the sight and laughed, her voice a tinkling sound that echoed across the water.

"Look, Neville," she said, "the squid has come to say hello!"

_Squid!?_ thought the willow, and then shrank back as the apparition rose up out of the water, flipping a line of droplets into the air to scatter along the willow's branches. At such close range, it was able to see the truth of Hermione's statement – the rich purple buds were the squid's suckers, and the sleek limbs were its tentacles, the weed from the lake training behind. _Could…_ the willow thought hesitantly, _could such a one as this… love one such as me?_

Slowly, cautiously, the willow reached out, one branch caressing the line of the squid's largest tentacle. The squid shuddered and slid further upwards until all its tentacles were exposed to the air and only its body remained underwater. Even more slowly, the two creatures intertwined.

"Awww," said Hermione, smiling. "It's good to see that there's still love in the world, even between such disparate creatures as these." Neville nodded, his face red.

The willow remembered the day when Hermione had read the story of Narcissus for the first time, and how he'd wished she would never have to know the pain of having the one she loved out of reach. It remembered how she'd come and wept at its base when the red-haired boy had been killed, and how she'd come again six months later and admitted she was afraid she'd never love or be loved again.

It reached towards the squid with another branch, but at the last minute danced in a new direction and gently shoved her towards the young man at her side. Hermione stumbled, but was saved from falling at the last minute as Neville caught her in his arms. Their eyes met.

After a long moment, Hermione blushed and leaned in. The squid shook with gentle laughter, and the willow carefully turned its attention back to the lake as the young couple kissed. _Love,_ the willow thought, and disentangled one branch from its watery partner to drop a purple and white blossom onto the surface of the water.


End file.
